Untold Legacies
by ProfFrankly
Summary: Sentinel Jim Kirk and Guide Leonard McCoy maintained a platonic bond for years. But the events of Star Trek: Into Darkness made them rethink their relationship.


Written for the Rough Trade Summer 2016 challenge. It's my first Star Trek fic, believe it or not.

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Leonard "Bones" McCoy tossed a duffle bag at his Sentinel. "Pack up, Jim," he ordered.

James Tiberius Kirk, his friend and Captain, looked up at him dully. "Why?"

"Because we're going on a road trip, darlin'." Bones started toward Jim's chest of drawers and opened the top one. "Boxers? Or briefs? Or ...are these panties, Jim?"

Jim stood and pulled the blue satin thong out of Bones' hand. "Give me that. And what do you mean, road trip?"

Bones turned to face his Sentinel. Though they'd only had a platonic bond since their meeting on the cadet shuttle, their friendship ran deep and true. If Bones were honest with himself, he'd admit he'd be open to making their bond a full sexual one. But Jim might never be ready for that. Not after the… unpleasantness.

"As your Guide and your physician, Jim, I'm making it my business to help pull you out of this funk you've been in since Khan killed you," Bones said seriously. "You're physically healthy. Your senses are all acting just fine. But I can feel that you're struggling. And I prescribe a complete change of scene."

Jim looked from Bones to the panties and back again. "Eh. I'll go commando. Where we going?"

"Down the Pacific Coast Highway, kid. At least bring an extra t-shirt."

.

Bones decided they'd do it up right, and had them beamed to Monterey, California, the very start of California Route 1. He'd reserved a classic-looking car for the journey, knowing that it would make his Sentinel very, very happy.

"Oh, Bones," Jim said with a low whistle. "This looks like a cherry red 1968 Mustang GT convertible. How is that possible?"

Bones shrugged. "There's a guy here that builds and restores antique vehicles. I don't know that this is an original. But he makes good business renting vintage-looking cars to tourists for this trip. This one appealed to me."

Jim looked over the dash, noting the state-of-the art, contemporary road system built in to the vintage-looking vehicle. "Sweet."

Bones held out the keys. "Wanna drive?"

Jim flashed a grin that was almost joyous. "You have to ask?"

Bones tossed them over, then grabbed their bags and stowed them in the small trunk as Jim popped it open. He grabbed the small ice chest he'd packed with water and other cold beverages and set it on the floor behind the driver's seat where he could reach it, then jumped in. Jim grinned at him as he started it up and put the top down. "Where to?" he asked.

Bones pointed to the sign that said "Route 1." "Start there and follow it down. It's about 150 miles, and we're going to stop at every interesting thing we see. I've got hotel reservations at Big Sur tonight, and that's not far. This is going to be a slow, fun, road trip. We've got leave for the next two weeks, so we're taking it."

"Bossy," Jim complained without heat. He pointed the car toward the freeway and opened her up. The engines roared, and they flew down the freeway toward Carmel-by-the-Sea.

.

When he felt Jim die, Bones nearly lost it. It was only through sheer force of will that his shields had held as he felt his Sentinel go down in the line of duty.

As a Guide, Bones had trained for that possibility. Hell, all Sentinel and Guide pairs were required to train for the total loss of their partners, to function in the face of such a loss. He'd borne it, and he'd immediately put Jim in a cryogenic stasis while he researched solutions that would bring his Sentinel back.

That part wasn't, strictly, standard procedure. Bones was damn lucky that he'd been able to weather the hearing after the fact and keep his commission. Experimental procedures in the field were all well and good, but Bones had been the very definition of emotionally compromised. He couldn't even claim to have been acting in the best interest of Starfleet at the time-all he could think was, "Jim can't die. Jim can't die." It was a litany of sorts.

When Spock brought an unconscious Khan back to the bridge, Bones was ruthless in collecting his blood and making the serum that would bring his Sentinel back. His utter focus helped cool the Vulcan's temper down to its usual state of icy logic, and Spock had been a huge help in the resulting science marathon.

Together, they'd saved Jim.

Bones wondered a bit if Spock harbored some sort of feelings for his Guide, but he tried not to let that bother him. As far as he knew, Spock was in a committed relationship with Uhura; as far as they all knew, Jim was so straight that he wouldn't entertain the notion of a sexual bond with his Guide.

Only his Guide knew differently.

Only his Guide knew it wasn't a matter of wouldn't, but a deep-down-in-the-gut couldn't.

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As first meetings went, theirs wasn't terribly auspicious.

Bones plunked himself down next to a beaten-looking Jim, complaining all the way, before turning to his seat companion and warning, "I may throw up on you."

The resulting flash of grin from Jim seemed like looking into the sun.

Bones barely remembered the rest of the conversation as he underwent the bone-deep recognition of _Sentinel._ His. Sentinel.

Jim recognized him, too, as his Guide. Nicknamed him Bones, and offered his friendship. They became roommates, but the compulsion to sexually bond-at least on Jim's part-was absent. Or so it seemed.

A late night with the bourbon helped Jim to open up, and Bones understood.

A place called Tarsus had ripped Jim's childhood and innocence from him, and he'd barely survived it. It had left scars, physical and emotional, and those scars ensured that Jim may never be able to be in a sexual relationship with a man. The liquor might have helped Jim confess, too.

"Bones, if there's ever any man I'd want to try with, it'd be you," Jim had assured him, slurring a bit. "But I just don't think I can."

Bones offered a hug and assurances.

They'd never spoken about it again. Each of them dated others-women, for both-but none of the relationships lasted. They'd found their true match.

.

"Whoo-hoo!" Jim yelled as they took in the site of the glowing blue Pacific Ocean on their right. "That's gorgeous!"

Bones laughed out loud. "Sure is, darlin.'"

They stopped at a small restaurant in Carmel for a lunch of creamy artichoke soup and thick toasted cheese sandwiches on local sourdough. Jim ate with a good appetite, Bones was pleased to see, and they wandered through the artists' shops there for a good hour before heading back to the car and heading south to Big Sur.

As they climbed through the mountains, the ocean views became more and more spectacular. At Bones' suggestion, they stopped at a wayside overlook with a pathway to the beach cut into the side of the cliff. Jim locked the car, and they picked their way down to where the ocean crashed against the white sand, littered with shells and smaller, jagged rocks.

Bones held out a hand to his Sentinel. "Come on. We'll go lay out on the sand and listen to the waves for a while. It'll be good for you."

Jim eyed the hand. He'd had Bones's hands on him before, of course; Bones was his physician as well as his Guide. Touch was one of the ways Jim could ground himself. But holding hands had never been their thing. He looked up at Bones with a quizzical expression. "Bones?" he asked.

Bones rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Doesn't have to mean anything, Sentinel. Just grounding touch if that's all you want."

Jim smiled at him, then took the hand, feeling their bond hum between them. "Okay, Bones."

They were quiet as Bones led him to a wide spot of sand on the beach, and they dropped hands when they sat down to pull of their shoes. Bones lay down and gestured up at Jim. "Come on. Listen to your doctor."

Jim laughed and lay next to him, scooting close enough to touch Bones' left hand with his right. "Doesn't have to mean anything, eh, Guide?"

"Nope." Bones wiggled in the sand to settle himself in well, and opened up his senses to his Guide. Anxiety, affection...hope? Bones wondered a little. "Unless you want it, too, Jim, I will never make you do anything."

"And if I did?" Jim said uncertainly, looking away but maintaining their physical connection.

"Then I'm here whenever you're ready."

.

Jim was thirteen when famine prompted the governor of Tarsus IV to kill "unworthy" colonists in order save the rest. He'd hidden away, leading other children to relative safety while watching armed forces murder his aunt and uncle, with whom he'd been staying.

In the weeks that followed, Jim and his companions hid and dodged troops, stole what food they could, and foraged through fungus-ridden crops to find more.

The first time Jim was caught, he fought the troops who wanted his youthful body, and he couldn't eat the bread they tossed on his bleeding form as they walked away.

He gave it to the other children to share.

The second time, he didn't fight, but he bargained for their rations before he submitted.

The third time, Jim knew himself to be a whore.

.

In the weeks that followed their rescue, Jim refused to speak about the events at Tarsus. His mother forced him to allow medical staff to treat his still healing wounds, and the infections that he carried. Jim left Starfleet Medical healed in body.

But the spirit was a different story.

He heard the whispers that the trauma might lead him to be a dormant Sentinel. By that point, the fact that the Kirks often had Sentinels was common knowledge. And if the trauma at Tarsus hadn't brought him online, what on earth would?

Jim didn't know, didn't care, and couldn't be bothered to find out.

Instead, like many young victims of sexual assault and coercion, he retreated internally, allowing people to see only what he wanted them to see. He sailed through high school without trying hard, got into fights, and had sex with girls and women who wanted him because it felt good. He could be in control.

The filthy shadow of the memories ate at his soul, sometimes. Jim drank a little more beer, partied a little more, worked at a hundred odd construction jobs, sweat running down his body as he pushed it to the limit.

One night, as Jim watched construction on The Enterprise, he was astonished to realize he could hear the conversation of the engineers on the lower decks-from several hundred feet away, through the decking.

It was a bit of a shock to realize he was coming online.

The day his spirit animal appeared, Jim laughed hysterically.

The whore of Tarsus IV had a female bobcat as his spirit guide.

He called her Maggie May, and something in him lightened up, just a little.

.

Chris Pike made it seem like Jim's delinquency stemmed from acute boredom and restlessness. To be fair, boredom and restlessness might have played a role.

But a bigger part of him felt uneasy about even trying to achieve anything with Starfleet. How could he possibly be worthy of that uniform? The one his father died in?

The dare helped him, but the long night staring at the Enterprise, thinking about his Sentinel gifts, helped more. He wasn't dormant after all.

He wasn't corrupt.

He could be worthy.

"Alright, Maggie May," he whispered, scratching her ears. "Let's give this a shot."

.

Meeting his Guide? Total kick in the pants.

The hilariously gruff doctor served as a balm for Jim's healing soul. Bones never pushed. Ever. He gave Jim the platonic bond the younger man could handle and promised not to push for more. Bones left the entire idea of a sexual bond up to Jim.

Jim didn't even have to explain much. Just the one drunken conversation about Tarsus gave Bones all he needed to know about how much Jim could handle, and what he couldn't.

Jim, himself, wasn't sure what he could handle. Each of them had other women they went to for sex, though as Jim healed, and he found himself to be worthy of the opportunities afforded him, he availed himself of fewer and fewer women.

Jim wondered if Bones even knew that since they'd taken on command of the Enterprise, Jim hadn't had a sexual relationship with anyone.

.

Death brings clarity.

In those last moments, with Spock pressed against the glass of the core reactor room, Jim felt along the bond to his Guide and regretted never pursuing the full, sexual bonding and partnership he could have had with his best friend.

His world went dark.

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He woke up to Bones. The surging relief through the bond that had thinned, but not dissipated with Jim's "death" gave him hope. But the fact of his survival-why did he survive, when so many others were gone?-sunk him into a depression that made him think, again, that he couldn't be worthy of the bond that Bones could offer him.

Fortunately for Jim, his Guide knew him better than that.

The road trip down the Pacific Coast Highway was literally and figuratively just what the doctor ordered.

So when Bones offered his hand on the beach, along with the swell of affection and understanding, Jim took it. And hoped he'd have the courage to mean it.

.

They lay quietly on the sand, holding hands, before Jim broke the silence. "Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"I mean it."

Bones tightened his hand on Jim's. "Be sure, Jim. Because I've loved you since we first met, and I'll wait for you as long as I need to."

Jim squeezed back. "I love you, too, Bones." He was silent for a moment. "Being dead kind of brings things into perspective. All I could think in those last moments before everything went black was, 'How can I do this to Bones? Why didn't I ever tell him that I loved him? Why was I so afraid?' I'm scared of this, Bones, but I also want it. Deep, down-in-the-gut want it."

"Me, too," Bones replied, and rolled up on his side to face Jim. "You have no idea what your being gone did to me, Jim. I never want to go through that again. The next time you go, I go, too."

Jim tipped his sunglasses down, and flashed a smile. "We'll go out in blaze of glory, Bones," he said.

Bones nodded. "Or rocking on the front porch of the old S&G home, sure. Preference to the second. As long as we're together."

.

The walk back to the car took no time at all. Jim got back behind the wheel, slid his glasses down his nose, and flashed a grin at his Guide. "Where to, Bones?"

Bones laughed. "I programmed it in. We're staying at a resort just off the beaten path, about 10 miles from here. We've got a Sentinel-safe suite."

"Oh, were you hoping to get lucky?" Jim joked.

"Always, Jim. When it comes to you, always."

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The resort Bones had chosen offered breathtaking views of the ocean from the scenic idylls of the mountain side, and complete privacy. Bones took a deep breath. "Ah, fresh mountain air," he commented.

Jim looked up and grinned. "What, no foreign viruses or dangerous microbes?"

Bones shook his head a little. "No, you heathen, just good, bracing ocean-and-mountain air from planet Earth." He frowned. "Though I suppose there could be-"

"Wait! Stop!" Jim interrupted, bring their bags up from the trunk and setting them down on the ground as he yelled and stepped forward. "I was teasing, Bones. Teasing. That thing we do. No microbe talk."

Bones grinned quickly. "Gotcha."

"What do you mean, 'Gotcha'?"

"I mean, gotcha," Bones laughed. "Shoulda seen your face when you thought I'd be going on another rant about microbes and infections."

Jim rolled his eyes and stepped back. "Whatever. Let's get checked in. There a restaurant around here?"

"Four-star, on the first floor. Room service, too," Bones grabbed one of the bags from Jim and they headed up to the front door. "Supposed to be absolutely delicious."

"Awesome; I'm starving." Jim shifted his bag to his left hand and just barely beat the doorman to open the front door of the resort himself. "After you."

Bones stepped through and greeted the doorman on the way to the antique desk and its smiling clerk. "Reservations under McCoy."

"Oh, Dr. McCoy, we've been expecting you." The clerk, a young, pretty human female, pulled up their reservation, found their old-fashioned metal key, and logged them into hotel security. "We have you set up in the Muir Suite. It's Sentinel safe, as requested, and all the products are Sentinel friendly. Dinner is served in the hotel restaurant any time between 5 and 10 p.m., breakfast from 5 to 11 a.m., and lunch from 11 to 3 p.m. We also offer room service. There's a spa menu in your room if you'd like to take advantage of a massage or other amenity. We have you staying for two nights, is that correct?"

Bones took a long look at Jim, who batted his baby blues flirtatiously, and looked back at the clerk. "Any chance we could get a couple extra nights?"

The clerk laughed at their byplay. "That suite is free for three nights after your original reservation, Dr. McCoy."

"Now it's not," he said simply. "Use the credit account on file."

"Very good, sir," she said, recording the information and shifting the reservation. "You're all set. Here's your keys." The clerk handed him the old-fashioned metal key, into which was embedded a chip for the electronic security. "Elevators just past that door there; all the way to the top."

"Thanks," Bones said. Jim smiled at her as they walked away and headed up to their suite.

.

"Niiiice," Jim drawled out as they stepped into the Muir Suite for the first time. He took a deep breath, pleased with the clean air and fresh feeling to the space. "Definitely Sentinel-friendly."

"Let's get unpacked," Bones proposed, bringing his bag through the plush seating area through a door to the right, where a large bedroom held a king-sized bed, wardrobe, stocked nightstands. An ensuite bathroom attached to the bedroom held a massive shower/bath, with jets, Jim was pleased to see, and a double-sink. The entire suite was done up in tones of royal blue and soft green, with blond oak woodwork, to foster a relaxing space.

They worked together quickly and quietly, eager to find the restaurant and get to eating dinner.

Bones checked the stocked nightstand drawers to see what was available, and found Sentinel friendly lube packets and condoms. He grinned a little, hoping Jim couldn't yet pick up on the first stirrings of arousal for his personal Sentinel.

Futile hope.

"Felt that, Bones," Jim called from the bathroom, where he was arranging his personal care products. "Just because we don't have a full sexual bond yet, doesn't mean I can't feel your getting worked up through our platonic bond."

"Well, I can't help but hope," Bones drawled a little, shutting the drawer. "And that kind of thinking gets the rest of me warmed up, darlin'. But I can reign it in."

Jim poked his head out the bathroom door. "Only through dinner, Bones. Then we'll see."

"No pressure, Jim. And I do mean that," Bones said.

The grin he was rewarded with lit up the room. "I know, Bones. I know."

.

The men took their time over dinner, eating their way through a five-course tasting menu that had Jim groaning with pleasure by dessert.

"This is a work of art," Jim intoned, brandishing a bite of dark chocolate mousse drizzled in sea-salted caramel, lightened with thick whipped cream. "A blessing. A true reason for living."

Bones laughed, enjoying his dessert coffee. "Glad you're enjoying it." He paused, then smiled, openly. "I love the way you look when you're happy."

Jim smiled back, a little shyly. "You know, I'm pretty much a sure thing at this point."

Bones shrugged. "Doesn't make it less true. I find you beautiful, Jim. Inside and out. Always have. Just didn't want to push."

Jim savored the last bit of his treat, then pushed the plate away and stood up. "Let's sign for the check and get out of here, Bones. We have things to do."

"Aye, Captain," Bones laughed, and stood, only to pause when Jim touched his shoulder. "Jim?"

Jim leaned forward, and lifted his other hand to trace the contours of Bones' cheek. "For the record, Bones, I find you beautiful, too." He leaned in closer, and blew a soft breath over the curve of Bones' ear. "And I want you. All of you. In any way I can."

"Well," Bones said, bringing his hands up to settle at Jim's hips. "You can have me. In any way you want." He took a deep breath. "But if you kiss me here, we'll probably give the patrons a hell of show."

Jim chuckled, the sound low and husky. "You're right about that, Guide. Let's go."

They held hands all the way back to their room, set out the old-fashioned "Do Not Disturb" sign, and made their way back to the rustic bed, shedding clothes as they went.

Naked, Bones stripped the duvet from the bed, grabbed the lube from the drawer, and lay down, giving his cock one long stroke before looking up at Jim with lust-filled eyes. "Coming, Sentinel?"

Jim blew out a breath, then lay next to his Guide, just as naked. "How do you want to do this?"

"Just do your imprint, Jim," Bones said softly, "Do your imprint, and kiss me. We'll know when we're ready. And for the record, as far as mechanics go, I want you to put that gorgeous cock in me and fuck me into this mattress, Sentinel."

Jim smiled, slow and soft. "You got it, Guide." And he leaned over to lay his lips on Bones' for the first time.

He tasted sweet and spicy, rich and dark, and Jim let himself fall into imprinting this new sensation. He felt Bones open up his empathic shields, and as Jim began tasting Bones's skin, he could feel the raw arousal and sheer joy the act was bringing his Guide.

Jim worked his way down. Where had this taste been? What had he been missing? He dipped a tongue in Bones' navel, and reveled in the gasp that wrung out of his Guide. He nibbled on a hipbone, tasted the tip of Bones' cock, then laved his balls before urging him over to rest on his front. Jim started again, from the top of Bones' spine, kissing each vertebrae before reaching his toned cheeks. He spread them, and tasted Bones there, the lush flavor of him burning into his sense.

And then, he was ready. More than ready.

He reached for the lube, putting some on his fingers, and gently introducing one finger at a time to Bone's entrance.

"You know, you can be a little faster," Bones intoned raggedly.

"Not gonna hurt you, Bones," Jim said firmly, the echoes of pain remembered traveling over the bond.

"You never will, Jim," Bones said hoarsely. "I know you. And I feel you. And will you get on with it already?!"

Jim gave that low chuckle again, and withdrew the three fingers he'd been working in and out of his Guide. He slathered a little lube on his cock, and pressed home.

The men groaned simultaneously. "OK, I'm absolutely an idiot for waiting this long," Jim said brokenly. "Your Sentinel is an absolute idiot."

"Yeah, but he's my idiot," Bones responded, glancing over his shoulder at Jim. "Move, darlin'."

"You got it," Jim said, and began to do just that. For long moments, their pleasure built, until Maggie May appeared in one corner, and Bones' spirit guide, a brown bear named Frank, appeared in the other. As the pair on the bed climaxed, their guides merged with a flash.

Jim kept up easy thrusts, rutting slowly into Bones as they both came down, then moved forward to hug his Guide from behind.

"I love you," Jim whispered into Bones' ear.

"I love you right back," Bones whispered in reply.

.

Five days later, they got back into the car to continue their road trip. Jim put the top down, put the car in gear, and let 'er rip. The sheer joy on his face made Bones grin in response.

Best idea he'd ever had.

THE END


End file.
